


The Man in the Shadows

by tkdgrl223



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Little Fluff, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tkdgrl223/pseuds/tkdgrl223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik tried to forget Emilia, but reminders of her followed him. He traveled across Europe and the Middle East trying to forget her, but tales of the great violinist, Gustave Da’ae, his wife, Emilia, and their new born daughter, Christine where never far behind. Until one day he saw a poster advertising Gustave’s concert that night; Erik knew he had to see Emilia once more. That night, with her dying breaths, she revealed to him a secret he swore to keep until he died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Gustave had everything she deserved. He had a promising career as a violinist before him. He came from a respectable family. He could go out in public without starting a panic. 

Erik knew he had to end things, and soon at that. Emilia was growing too attracted to the monster who had nothing to offer. 

One night after their moonlit music lesson Erik grew restless. He had to do it, but he didn’t want to say it. He wanted Emilia to stay, to choose him. It was so hard to say when she was sitting so close to him. Her body nearly touching his. One hand was stroking his thigh as he blurted “Emilia, this can’t continue.” 

Taken aback by this sudden reversal she merely looked confused. “I think it’s a little late for that.” She radiated. 

Removing her hand from his trousers as he tried to wiggle away from her. “I can’t keep fooling you like this. I don’t work for the Sultan. I lied when I said you were talented; you’re mediocre at best. You’re no fairer than other Swedish girls.”

“Stop joking. Erik, I don’t care. You may have lied about that, but I’ve gotten to know the real you.” His heart raced as she pressed into him. “I know you care about me. I know I am in love with you. You’re just saying this because you’re afraid. There is no need to be frightened.”

“It’s all been a lie. I’ve meet tens of little girls just like you. You’re no different than your whore mother!” He shouted, eyes clenched. The sting on his face did not hurt a thousands times as bad as the sound of her sobs as she ran away.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He followed Christine everywhere she went. He wanted to reveal himself, but he promised her mother to never let her know. When Gustave died, Erik knew the best place to watch her from was from within the Opera Populaire. He watched her train under the watchful eye of Madame Giry, but he wanted her to become the best, that’s when lessons began. For years he trained her voice without incident.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 17 Years Later ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At Gustave’s grave he watched as she plead for him to return to her. For her father to help her. After years of invisibly watching over her he could no longer bear it. In a grand manner Erik descended the steps of the mausoleum. 

Startled she jumped back then asked “Who are you?” 

“I am your Angel of Music.” he sung and the instant recognition on her face filled his heart.

“My angel? You’ve at last let me look upon you.”

“I know I should not have waited as long, but I promised your mother.”

“You knew my mother?”

“Yes, we grew up in the same village. After she married your father our lives followed separate paths, but I promised I would always make sure you were safe.”

“What do you mean by always? I’ve never seen you before. How long have you been following me?” she demanded.

“Since your father died. You had no one else, but I could not care for you myself.”

“Why not?” she asked. 

The innocence of this child. His meddling ways would one day not be able to protect her. Naivety did not last long in ballet girls. 

“With me you would be the ward of a monster. I have to hide behind this mask and limit my contact with society. I do not wish that upon you.”

Christine took a step towards her angel. “Did my mother ever see you without your mask?”

“Yes, she was one of three people who have not been horrified by the sight of what lies underneath. She made me feel like I was a normal child while we were growing up. She had such a kind heart, something you’ve inherited.” the masked angel remincised. 

“May I see?” She asks with such innocence Erik shutters. Should he say yes she will forever be tainted by what she will see. Should he say no he may lose her.

“I must warn you this face will haunt you.” 

“Your face does not define you. You are my Angel of Music. You are my protector. You will never haunt me.” 

She lifted the face off slowly. Every muscle in Erik’s body tightened waiting for the blood curtailing scream that never came. When he peeked out of one eye he saw that Christine’s contained neither horror nor contempt, but pity. This was incomprehensible. Falling to his knees, the man broke down in tears before his muse. She did not fear him. She could see him as a man. A man society has reject and has only treated with cruelly and derision. 

Kneeling and gently lifting his sunken head, Christine says “You no longer have to hide yourself from me, my angel.” 

Was now the time? Could he tell her everything? 

“Father.” Erik spun to face Christine. _What did she say?_

“Father, thank you for sending me my Angel of Music. He has been watching over me just like you promised he would.” words spoken to the tombstone of Gustave Da’ae. 

_Now is not the time._

“Erik.”

“What?” She looked puzzled.

“That’s my name. You should know now that you have seen me. Now let me-“ Little arms wrapped around his chest. Her head pressed against his shoulder. His arms widespread, confused as to what was happening. 

“Thank you, you have looked after me so well. I don’t know how I could ever make it up to you. Erik.” she smiled up at him.

“All in due time. Now let’s get you back to the opera house."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time Christine was eighteen she had surpassed Carlotta, yet the managers refused to replace the soprano. Erik started taking matters into his own hands. Sets and consumes ruined over night, more and more stage hands with broken hands, until finally the managers gave into the “ghost’s” demands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Another Year and a Half Later ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Erik! Erik!” she cried while running down the stairs, through the cellars, past the many security measures, and into his lair. 

His head perked up as her cries grew louder. Through the candelabra her beaming smile shown. 

“Erik! The managers have agreed to let me play the lead at Friday’s gala.” 

He held onto her, imaging the years they had lost. 

“Christine, I must confess something to you.” 

She tried to turn him to face her, instead he shook her off and sat before his piano. His head sunk into his hands. The body of this withering man trembled.

“Erik, please tell me. I cannot bare seeing you so upset.”

No, today is about her triumph. “It’s nothing. I am so proud of you. Your mother and father would be so proud if they could see you now."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~Friday, The Night of Christine's First Gala Performance ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He knew he was dying. He had known for a while, but Christine didn’t know yet. How could he tell her? To say her tutor, her protector, her Angel was dying. The news would only distract her from her gala premier, which she has been training so diligently for. No, he couldn’t tell her just yet. 

Erik lay in bed coughing, knowing, wishing he could be preparing to take his seat in Box Five for the gala tonight. He had not the strength to stray far. 

 

Something wasn’t right. Christine was due on stage in less than an hour and was nowhere to be found. Stage hands searched fervently while Madame Giry tried to convince the managers that Christine would return in time. 

“Then where is she?”

“I can not tell you.” Giry asserted. 

“Tell us now woman. This is not the first time Miss Da’ae has disappeared without a trace, last time she was gone for two weeks, yet you promise she will return within the hour.”

“I can not tell you, because I do not know the way. Should you try to track her down you will surely be catch in a fatal trap.”

“Where is she?” they asked again, this time more frantic.

“Under the opera house. Beyond the cellars you know about. But Monsieurs, you will not reach her in time. She knows her way. You do not. It could take weeks for you to find where she had gone, by which time she will have returned and sung at tonight gala. I implore you do not look for her. She will return with time to spare.” 

 

The cavern was dimly lit when Christine arrived, for a second she could believe Erik had left for the gala. The thought dashed when she saw his tails still hanging on the piano. Even in the flickering candlelight she could see how nothing at changed since she last visited a week ago. Nothing at all. The inkwell she had knocked over still on its side on top of sheets and sheets of ruined score. His cape covering his model opera house, where she stood center stage. Pools of wax under the hundreds of candlesticks had grown in height and girth. 

“Erik?” she cried. “Erik are you here?”

A muffled cough responded, coming from the bedroom. The soprano ran up the stairs almost slipping on waxy stone. As soon as she lifted the curtain she froze. _Erik._ Her angel, swallowed up by the bed he lay in. His features appeared more sunken and far more pale than normal. Motionless expect for the uneven rise and fall of his chest.

“My angel?” She barely whispered, but it was enough to wake the dying man. 

His eyes filled with horror. _Why is she here? She has the gala._

“Why aren’t you at the gala?” he croaked

“I was worried about you. I hadn’t heard from you in days. I didn’t see you in your box. Even Madame Giry had no news. I had to come look for you.” She sat on the bed, taking the withering hand in her’s.

“You must return. Your life is there among the living, not here with me.”

“No, you are everything to me. I won’t leave you.”

He lifted his hand to cup her face. Seeing the tears begin to run down her face he knew it was time. “My darling Christine, I don’t deserve you. I have only ever lied to you. I have not told you who I really am, who I am to you. You are my angel. You made me strong Christine. I have lived this long for you. I could not let my daughter suffer as the orphan.”

_Daughter? No that can’t be, but yet._ Christine took a new look at the man who was transforming into a ghost. He had the same raven black hair as her. His eyes were pure gold while her’s only had flakes. Both had a small yet commanding frame. Their understanding of music, the way it effected them so deeply. 

“Father?” 

“Yes my darling daughter, I am your papa.” 

Christine fell onto his chest. Together they cried for so many reasons. Father and daughter reunited. Daughter visiting her father’s deathbed. 

Their moment interrupted by another coughing fit. Erik wiped away his tears as he instructs Christine to return to the gala.

“No, I won’t leave you. You need me!”

“I will be fine for another few hours. Please it would bring me peace to know you have secured a leading position. Go, sing, make your papa proud, then return to regale me with your triumph.”

“And I will sing for you?”

“Yes. Yes I will fight Death until I hear you sing once more. Go now or you will miss it.” 

Her angel released her with a kiss on her forehead.

 

Backstage the managers and Raoul were pestering Madame Giry as stagehands continued to look for Christine. 

“Madame, where is she?” they asked. Before Giry could answer she saw missing soprano turn the corner.

“Right behind you.”

“Christine!”, “Ms. Da’ae!”, “You’re on in two minutes!” cried the worried managers. 

Taking his returning girlfriend in his arms, Raoul asked “Where were you?”

“There is no time Vicomte.” Madame Giry urged as women quickly prepared Christine. Christine’s makeup was freshened and her curls given a few twirls around the fingers of the costuming assistants. 

“Raoul, I will explain later. I promise you will understand in time.” She called back as she was rushed onto the stage. 

The Vicomte tried to focus on Christine, but his mind wondered to what or who was beneath the cellars that would force Christine to be down there so close to her performance when it struck him. 

_The Opera Ghost. Her Angel of Music._

This man none have seen besides Christine. To remain faceless even when surrounded by a crowd was one of the gifts this “ghost” possessed that frightened Raoul. He has kidnapped Christine, yet she still protects him. He intimidated and then threatened the managers to get her a leading role. His methods where becoming more and more destructive and dangerous. Raoul feared for Christine’s life. She could not see the harm this “angel” would one day cause her. He could not let her suffer by his hands. 

She would return to him. She would probably return tonight and tonight he would follow Christine. Face to face with his monster he would be able to break its hold on the woman he loved. So when the performance was through he did not badger her into divulging into what happened, like she said he will understand in time. He encouraged her to see her “Angel” and offer she blindly took. Consumed in with thoughts of him most likely, she did not notice Raoul following.

The cellars turned into sewers, but Christine paid no mind she had grown accustom to the stench. They must have past hundred of forks and turns but she never questioned her path. At the end of one tunnel Raoul could see a large gate, illuminated from the cavern on the other side. 

_This must be it! His lair._ He thought. 

Raoul watched as his black-haired love opened the gate and walked inside. Inching closer he pulled the pistol from his trousers. After checking to make sure the powder was still dry, the Vicomte cocked the gun and took position aiming through the gate. There they stood, the weight on the monster crushing Christine who was struggling. The shot would be clear if Christine would only move from in front of the deformed beast. Raoul’s stomach was turning at the sight, yet she let him keep an arm around her. The monster has Christine in his arms as a shield. Their mouths were moving but what was said was inaudible. He had to act. He had to stop his monster who had manipulated Christine into believing she was in love with him. Bracing against one of the damp carven walls, Raoul lined up his shot then squeezed the trigger. 

Five slow breaths. It took five breaths for Christine to step away from the deformed creature. 

Four quick breaths as he watched the monster rear up in agony. The bullet plowed through the weak tissue, shattering the mirror behind the monster as it exited.

Three stumbling steps taken by the victim. Reaching aimlessly at the falling papers and candelabras as the body crumbled under collapsing legs.

She could not stay here. He waded through the knee-deep water towards her. 

“Christine, you’re safe now. Come with me.” 

Two sharp eyes glaring at him, vowing a lifetime of hatred and contempt, from Christine before she turned back to the bleeding body in her lap. 

_She isn’t thinking straight. She cannot see past him. Once removed from him she’ll see sense._ Raoul thought as the water splashed against his leather boots with each step.

Laying the body of the stone floor before she stood, Christine turned not towards her suited but towards the desk. _Maybe he hid something of her’s in there._ But he hadn’t. Next thing he knew a loaded and cocked pistol was aimed at his head. 

“Leave! Never try to contact me again. I can never forgive you for this.”

“You’re not thinking straight. Please come with me. He manipulated you into loving him. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“He NEVER manipulated me. I love him of my own free will. I will always love him while my infatuation for you will fade fast.”

“He has you under some spell. Christine, remember your father telling us Norse fiarytales? Remember when I fetched your red scarf from the sea? Remember when I meet you again? That was real. Whatever he has told you is not.”

“No! He has told me the truth. It is no spell that I am his daughter and he is my father, my real father. GO NOW AND LEAVE ME!” she wailed. Frightened, he scuttled from the lair.

Kneeling back besides the body she cried, “Papa. Papa! Please still be alive. Everything will be alright."

“Closer,” he begged. Gently she slid herself under her father, cradling him as tight as she dared. Tears mixed with the ever-growing pool of blood. "It’s too late for me, my angel. My darling Christine you have brought me so much more happiness in these last few months than I ever expected. I am at peace. Just do one thing for me.”

“Of course Papa just ask it of me."

“All I ask of you is to find that one person to share one love, one lifetime with.”

“I promise Papa. I promise. Please don’t go. I just found out who you are. Our story has only begun. I love you." Pleading, gripping the fading life that lay in her arms. 

And so on this moonless night the one final breath of a ostracized father was spent comforting the child he had watched over from the shadows.

"Love never dies, my child."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the feels. I had to stop writing for an hour when I wrote the reveal. The ending was already done at that point, but THOSE FEELS!

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this has been my 4th fic in just 2 months, and my 2nd Phantom fic. I'd like to think they're getting better. Working on getting the non-dialogue parts better, but that will take a while. 
> 
> I have another 2? yeah 2 Phantom fics planned. One is almost done.


End file.
